The Royal Palace of Rabanastre
Well, it was somewhat unexpected, but I seem to have stumbled upon a plot. I wonder where it will lead?
Two years and nineteen days.
That was how long it had been since Ashe had laid eyes on the pirate. As her fingers nervously played with the wedding band in her palm, slipping it half way onto her finger and then shaking it off only to repeat the process all over again, Ashe considered various contradictions.
The first of which was that she sat alone in her private chambers, a mountain of official state mandates awaiting her perusal and seal of approval, yet she had read not a word of any of them, instead her eyes roved over and over again across the worn scrap of paper with the scant few, faded lines in monstrously bad penmanship she knew off by heart.
The second contradiction was the ring. The band of unadorned silver that she tapped against the desk edge again and again, which had once belonged to her husband, her sweet, noble prince, but now held a far more potent association in Ashe's mind.
The third contradiction was the still remembered sense of violation and anguish she had felt when forced to part with this self same ring over two and half years ago to the pirate, an anguish dwarfed into insignificance by the pain, the sense of betrayal, she had felt when that ring was returned to her with nary a scratch.
The greatest contradiction was her self. Two years and nineteen days without so much as word to her either in secret letter or passed on by mutual acquaintance, and still her feelings for the pirate, whose name she refused to use even in the privacy of her own thoughts, roiled inside her as fiercely as they had upon discovering that she had not, in fact, been the catalyst for the death of yet another lover.
Ashe supposed she had always had trouble letting go. She could be overly serious, with a tendency to read too much into the most innocuous of circumstances, perhaps the best revenge she could inflict on him would be to give him and his fickle heart no further thought. Banish him to some dusty corner of forgotten memory forever.
Scraping her velvet cushioned chair back she stomped over to her window, alone in her bedchamber she did not have to maintain appearances and could be as contrary and irritable as she wished.
Her eyes rooted to the shadowed hulk of Bahamut in the dusk, standing in precarious readiness in the desert like a sentinel guarding Rabanastre, a permanent testament to all that had been lost and all that had been gained since the war.
A queen may seek to escape her charge with the aid of a sky pirate eager to raise his bounty a peg.
She heard Basch's insightful, wry comment in her memory, all that time ago within Bahamut's corridors as they rushed to meet Vayne Solidor and their individual destinies.
I doubt our queen will need the help of any sky pirate.
She remembered how sharply she had turned to him then, hearing not the words he said, which were as urbane and emptily witty as ever, but instead hearing in his tone how little the bond between them meant to him that he could think that she had so little further need of him.
You think me as strong as that?
Had been her inarticulate question to him in response and he had never answered her. Afterward, when she thought him dead, a heroic martyr for Dalmasca, she had interpreted his words differently and found in them a less callous meaning.
Then his one simply statement had been a goodbye and an I love you, a recognition that they must part ways, and a confirmation made for her ears only that she was more to him than another fabulous conquest with which to inflate his legend.
Now she knew he had been running around happily alive all this time she found herself unable to let him go because of those questions. In the past it had been different, she had known herself loved by both her husband and her father, the grief that still lingered with their memories had at least offered that respite.
With him this was not the case. The balance of the evidence too evenly distributed for and against for any verdict to be reached that would allow her to make her peace with his memory and accept her brief affair with the pirate for what it was.
She needed to know that he had loved her, even if only briefly. She understood that he had deliberately made his heart shallow and revelled in his own selfishness to mask his pain. She knew that it might well have never occurred to him that she had mourned him and had longed to hear word he still drew breath those long months after Bahamut.
She could accept that hurt he had caused her if it was motivated by thoughtlessness, it was the suspicion that he had deliberately stayed away from Dalmasca ever more, knowing how she felt, that fostered in her such anger.
That the Strahl had never been seen in Dalmascan air space, that he had never set foot in Rabanastre since Bahamut's fall meant that she had come to accept that her questions would go unanswered.
But not today, today those answers were in reach.
Listlessly pacing back to her desk Ashe rooted amongst the mounds of papers until she found the particular piece of parchment she sought. It looked like any ordinary Licence certificate for an Ultima Blade, and in fact the greedy and lazy individual who had paid for the counterfeit Licence for the weapon he was not fit to wield, had certainly hoped the weapon seller in Rabanastre's Bazaar would think so too.
Ashe smiled wryly as she looked at the tiny error in the small print on the Licence that had given the game away.
The forger had excellent skill, without question, it was just bad luck that he was a little behind the times when it came to the official crest of Dalmasca, which she had had altered to include an image of the Bahamut which she had decided to incorporate as a symbol of her people's victory against oppression.
Not having the courage to set foot in Rabanastre in all this time, it was understandable he had not known of this design change.
The irony that it was the Bahamut, in a manner of speaking, that had proved his undoing, pleased Ashe immensely.
Forging Licence certificates was a crime; depending on the official document forged it could carry a far harsher punishment than mere theft or burglary in her country.
The hapless fool who had bought the Licence was all too happy to co-operate with her watchmen and it did not take long, the arrogant pirate probably assuming he had no need to fear Dalmasca's authorities, to track down the culprit.
He had, by all accounts, surrendered himself into her guardsmen's custody quite peaceably, once assured that his ship and his partner were to remain free. Ashe had no bone to pick with Fran, after all.
Ashe had had him deposited in Nalbina, under twenty four hour guard (she was not about to have him disappear on her again) until she was ready to face him.
That had been two days ago, and still she had not made the trip up to the restored fortress. Oh, she had reasons for her prevarication, everything from sheer spiteful pettiness to genuine matters of state that needed attending too.
The truth was she was afraid to meet him face to face again. A Queen should not murder a prisoner in her custody, certainly not with her own bare hands and not without at least some form of trial. This was simply a matter of etiquette.
Until Ashe felt herself able to obey those laws of polite behaviour she did not feel able to interrogate the prisoner.
Giving up on the pretence that she would do any work this night, Ashe threw herself into her (appropriately enough) queen sized bed and tried to force her racing mind to sleep. That the smooth, melodious echo of his voice tickled the edges of her sleeping mind did not help Ashe gain any rest whatsoever that night.
Therefore when morning came and she called her attendant to have him prepare her passage to Nalbina post haste she was quite prepared, nay eager, to begin a lengthy interrogation of her very special 'prisoner'.
The guards responsible for making sure the man who escaped the falling Bahamut did not escape Nalbina (for a second time) escorted her to the small tower room they had put him in (Ashe was not quite so angry she would have him locked up in a dungeon, at least not yet).
Damn the man, that he should look so good after all this time.
Ashe fumed as the door to his holding room was flung open and she swept in with all her regal dignity to find him, the study of suave nonchalance, reclining against the narrow bunk, idly peeling the skin back from an orange as if he chose to be locked up here.
'Your Highness, what an unmitigated pleasure it is to see you once again.'
With the mocking grace of a bandercouerl he rolled to his feet and dropped into a beautifully theatrical bow, dropping to land indolently penitent to his knees before her, head dutifully bowed.
Ashe called upon all her considerable resolve not to spit on the top of his perfectly coiffed bowed head, she turned to her guards.
'Leave us.'
'Your Majesty?' The guard sounded both perplexed and uncomprehending, Queen's were never to be left alone with criminals, Ashe knew, but she would not have an audience for this conversation.
'I will be fine, please wait at the bottom of the stairs and I will summon you when I have finished with him.'
If there was but one good thing to have come from the years she spent exiled from her throne it was the reputation as a warrior queen she had rightly or wrongly she did not know, garnered about her. Her guards left.
'The Queen has spoken, and so it shall be.' She heard him murmur sardonically, though he kept his head down and eyes averted.
'Do not mock me pirate, I have yet to strike public floggings from the official mandate of acceptable punishment, I would not provoke me now.' She snapped fiercely. Turning awkwardly and going towards the small window looking out at the Highwaste.
Though she had granted him no such permission she heard the rustle of clothing indicating he had risen from his bow and moved again to the bunk.
'By all means, Your Majesty, do as you will, I dare say I have suffered worse.'
Ashe whirled about, the train of her skirt bunching behind her as she did so, she was disgusted by the cold, almost sneering contempt thinly veiled in his tone.
For the first time in two years and twenty days she looked into his face and met his eyes and she saw something she wasn't expecting to see. She saw a stranger.
'Balthier?'
It was weakness she knew, to whisper his name so he was far too perceptive, far too damnably clever, to fail to understand where the quaver in her voice came from. But oh, it hurt; it hurt terribly to have truth absolute that he really had never cared. That it had all been a game to him.
Those sardonic eyes watched her coolly for a moment and then he quirked one eyebrow quizzically, 'Yes, Your Highness?'
Ashe swallowed hard and forced herself not to be a woman of twenty-one who had loved but two men and lost them both, without ever having anything to show for giving away a piece of her soul, and instead spoke as a monarch, a Dynast Queen.
' I came today to allow you the courtesy of informing you in person that your trial is set for one month today, if you have not the means to employ your own representative one will be appointed for you by the state of Dalmasca.'
Ashe turned towards the door, shocked at her own words; she had honestly intended to let him go as soon as she had the truth from him, now she found herself unwilling to do so. Would she really put him on public trial? If all his crimes came to light, as they must do in any trial, he could face the gallows, was she really so petty?
No, let him just believe it for a time, her heart demanded some recompense for its wasted pain.
'On what charges?'
His dry inquiry stopped her, hand upon the door to his cell. She did not turn to look on him.
'Excuse me?'
She felt him turn his head to look on her as he sat, knees up upon the bedspread and hands braced against his knees.
' I thank your Majesty for her courtesy in coming in person to inform me I face trial, perhaps you would also be so kind as to inform me in what way, exactly, I have trespassed against your royal Highness?'
Ashe knew his words were double edged, he could always read her so easily, and manipulate her with equal ease. Silently she walked towards him and presented him with the transcript of his official crime.
He took the paper from her and for the first time Ashe realised he wore large black gloves on his hands, his tawdry rings pushed over the gloves fingers on his right hand. Ashe frowned; it seemed an odd fashion statement. Why wear gloves indoors?
Balthier's derisive snort drew her attention back to him, 'A somewhat flimsy justification for stealing a man's liberty, Your Highness, there is no evidence linking me to the creation of this alleged forgery.'
'There is the witness testimony of the man who commissioned you to create the forgery, and my watchmen have found other Licences with a similar error of design that have gone unnoticed by weapons sellers and purveyors of magickal wares throughout Nalbina, the Westersand and the Highwaste, identical in design to this Licence.'
Ashe held up the counterfeit Licence, the crown prosecutions main piece of evidence in their case against the notorious sky pirate Balthier, which she had had every intention of giving back to the arrogant, careless, pirate when she set him free. Now she held onto it in a death grip.
Balthier was studying her intently, 'So this is how you wish to play it, hmm?' He shrugged his shoulders unconcerned at the mounting case against him.
'The crown you so prettily wear upon your head, has changed you, I see. I thought it would.'
Ashe had no idea what he meant by that, or how to interpret the strangely serious, subdued tone of his voice as he rose to his feet, stepping around her as if she was of no more consequence than a piece of furniture, and taking his own turn to stare moodily out of the window.
'You have committed a crime in my country, perhaps several crimes; did you expect me to simply let you be; to allow you immunity to commit any crime against the laws of my country that you see fit, Balthier?'
Balthier turned back to her with an empty smirk upon his face, his eyes cynical. ' I never expected anything from you Your Highness, that you did not freely give, and as to the matter of any crimes I may or may not have committed on Dalmascan soil, well I believe that is for a jury of my peers to decide, is it not?'
He turned his head back to look abstractedly out of the window and Ashe was almost glad to be so summarily dismissed from his regard. Suddenly her once bedrock certainty in her own righteous anger against him was called into question.
I never expected anything from you that you did not freely give.
His words chilled her furious ardour and left her close to tears, but she was a Queen and Queen could not be wrong. He had committed a crime against Dalmasca. She was certain of this; a serious crime.
Forged Licences did not only lead to potential danger to life as people not properly able or trained to wield magicks or weaponry found themselves suddenly able to purchase any magick or weapon they had Gil for, but forged certificates also undermined her countries still recovering economy, she could not simply let this go. She would be failing Dalmasca to do so.
Ashe had already begun to open the door to his cell room when his words stopped her.
'Ashe, are these really the terms you wish to play this round by?'
She turned back to him, closing and leaning upon the door, yet he had not turned from the window.
'Terms?' She demanded.
She saw his smirk in the reflection of his face in the glass, dusk already beginning to fall upon Nalbina.
'The stakes are somewhat higher than before, at least for me, but I suppose that is only fair.' He winked at her, fully aware she was staring fixedly at his reflection in the glass of the windowpane.
'This has always been a high stakes game between us, hasn't it, Princess?'
Ashe felt a thrill of some strong emotion, part anger, part shock, part excitement? She remembered so well the game of innuendo and salacious tit for tat they had engaged in from Giruvegan to Bahamut, during a time when she was free.
'This is no game Balthier.' She told him woodenly, her heart cracking.
He laughed still with his back to her, 'Oh, yes it is Highness. Sooner or later everything is a game.'
Ashe stared at his back, rigidly leaning against the door of the bricks and mortar cage she had created for him, heart pounding.
'Why did you leave?' Ashe whispered, barely audible but she knew he heard her.
Finally he deigned to look on her, turning his head to glance over his shoulder at her.
'Leave?' He asked contriving to sound genuinely puzzled.
'After Bahamut, I thought you dead, Balthier. I thought...I thought I had lost someone else I...'
She didn't see him move, he was just suddenly in front of her, his leather sheathed finger suddenly stopped her lips.
'Walls have ears, your Highness, two years on the throne and you haven't learnt that lesson?' He breathed in her ear.
There was barely a sliver of thin air between their two bodies as Ashe looked up at his face, at the keen intelligence in his jaded eyes.
She jerked away from his, feeling the heat of his gloved finger like a brand against her lips, heart thundering at close she had come to a terrible, dangerous admission, and it was he who had saved her from it.
She watched him walk towards the door and knew he was listening for anyone who might be eavesdropping beyond. After a moment, seemingly satisfied he turned back to her and spoke in soft voice.
' You've started a new game now, Ashe, higher stakes and all that, and I rather doubt this is one that can be ended all that easily, too many people know I'm here I should imagine and you have a reputation to uphold.'
Balthier's blandly amused tones reminded her of his blithe disregard for his imminent demise on Bahamut, that same deliberate lightness of tone.
'Balthier?'
Ashe could feel her chest growing tight as she realised the tremendous mess she had made through a selfish desire to have her cake and eat it, to reclaim something precious that she had found when she had lost all else and subsequently lost when all else was restored to her.
She had once feared that her love was a death sentence to all unfortunate enough to fall sway to it, now for Balthier, it very well might be.
He stepped up to her quickly and she saw that familiar, infuriating smirk was back in place, as was a more heartening warmth to his eyes that she remembered waking up too one glorious morning in Balfonheim days before Bahamut's fall.
'This is a fine mess you've put us in Ashe, you had better come up with a strategy for the win because I fear my hand is somewhat weak in this game.'
He rested his hands, those oddly gloved hands, upon her shoulders and Ashe relished the sensation even as she felt her mind churning.
'Had you been a little less careless in your forgery, pirate, none of this would have happened.' She snapped.
He actually had the audacity to laugh as he left her and went back to his perch on his bunk. 'Maybe Highness, but I am a man who has always put my faith in the kindness of monarchs.'
Ashe stifled a snort of dark laughter as she turned towards the door opened it and turned briefly back to him. She still needed her answer, for all that it didn't really matter.
'Balthier, did you..? Do you..?' She let the words she could not say remain silent, expressed only in her gaze locked to his.
The tiniest of smiles played upon his lips and he (rather theatrically) pressed one hand to his heart over his black and silver threaded vest.
'Yes; never really stopped truth be told.'
Ashe smiled, even as her stomach twisted with impossibility of their circumstances. She could just manage a whispered. 'Me too.' Before propriety and regal dignity forced her to leave while the going was good.